under another sun

A day of shopping. Into town with Lorraine, and then we split up so that I could buy my lovely wife a present. As I was about this, I bumped into Janet, and Janet and I enjoyed a quick cup of coffee and arranged to see each other tomorrow. Off then for a haircut. Busy men in there today, but I didn't have to wait too long. In the evening, back into town to meet Rosie and Innis and watch the parade for the burning of the clocks. There were lots of clocks this year, though far fewer larger ones than in years before. Lovely to see them parading through, interspersed with drumming bands of samba and bhangra varieties. Then everyone went down to Marine Drive and looked down on the ship model into which, rather slowly, people put their clocks. Eventually this was set on fire, as a suitable rebuff to the longest night of the year and blazed happily despite the rain starting at the same time. Then a spectacular and thunderous firework display. Now raining with a peevish persistenc...

Lorraine had a few bits of work to do today, but otherwise we took an extended lunch. A fire had led to signalling chaos and so we drove Beth off to Eastbourne, from where she is going to Switzerland with pals for Christmas. Stopped off at the garden centre to buy plants for the aquarium, food for cats and so on, and to drop some broken things at the dump and then to Middle Farm where we nosed about in the farm shop, paused to look at cows being striped by the low sun falling through wooden walls of the cowsheds. Some of them were heavily pregnant. After fond farewells with Beth, having delivered her into the hands of her pals Sarah and Matt, off to a nearby butcher to sort out some meaty goodness for Christmas. In the evening Cath called around and we went down to see the burning of the clocks. This event always makes me cheery and proud of the creativity that is present in abundance in Brighton. Hundreds of people  in the parade of drummers, musicians dancers, costumes and of c...

Burning of the Clocks The longest night, and so it was The Burning of the Clocks. A very pagan-seeming ritual, but only begun in 1993. A big parade of the clocks and bands of samba drummers, people wearing spooky faces, and on stilts etc. through town culminating in music and pyrotechnics and stunning fireworks on the beach below Madeira Drive. Thousands of people come to watch it, and it is yet another reason I love Brighton so much. Lorraine and I went with Dawn and Cath to watch the parade, and then the fireworks while we sipped hot mulled wine opportunely scored from a stall on the street. When it was all over we repaired to warm ourselves in the Basketmakers where I consumed an enjoyable few beers, and basked in the attentions of three ladies. Otherwise a rich and bubbling cold, which I share with half the people in the UK. Taking care of business this morning, invoicing and some last bits of admin before I shut up shop for the year. Long conversation with Alexandra on the phone d...

Burning of the clocks Woken up at four in the morning by a mugging in the twitten. I don't know who was mugged, just heard a lot of shouting, and running and a demand to "give us everything". I sprang out of bed and phoned the cops, but everyone concerned had sped away before I had reached downstairs. Laborious descriptions needed, while I stood naked in the dark and the perpetrators legged it. How did I know it was a mugging? I looked out of the windows to confirm nobody was around or hurt. Silence returned and I went back to bed, later hearing two policemen quietly talking and checking the twitten. All seemed like a dream by morning. My house is like Tom Bombadil's house in the Lord of the Rings, the bit where the hobbits are told to heed no nightly noises. A lovely slow day. To lunch at the Sussex Yeoman with Lorraine and Cath and Hywel, who is over from Iceland where he works as an archaeologist specialising in Vikings. Interesting to hear what he's up to, inc...

The burning of the clocks Most of the day surging up and down on the emotional rollercoaster that is shopping. It is exhausting to dither about between shops, and trying not to get side-tracked. Shopping is NOT my strongpoint, but I cleverly avoided going into a pub instead, and made some steady progress by the end of the day. Shortly after six I met Anton in the Eddy for a cheeky beer, and then we shot off through town down to the seafront to meet Rick and his bairns for the burning of the clocks. Compared to last year there didn't seem to be so many clocks, but still it was a good thing to watch - culminating in the burning of a Tower of Babel (a good idea) and fireworks. We were standing at the Terrace bar, with a good view of the procession, and handily able to sip a second beer there too. Then Lorraine arrived, just in time to see the fireworks, as Anton began to slip into hypothermia - then we taxied back to Anton's place for champagne, a tasty pasta carbonara and apple p...

The Burning of the Clocks The fog thing now getting beyond a joke. A thick soup of it today that starts just a bit inland from Brighton, and my flight just two days away. Will I escape? Last day at work, mercifully. Worked quite hard in the morning and then straight home for a microsleep . I feel shattered. Then off to the Burning of the Clocks with Anton. I absolutely loved this. We huddled in a few bars near the seafront and then went down to the beach, to see a procession of mad drummers and hundreds of lanterns some of them in amazing dragon, octopus and people shapes with clocks on them. It is the darkest day and this is a new Brighton pagan tradition. The clocks were ultimately burnt on a big pyre after a symbolic sun was set on fire against the backdrop of the dark winter sea. Really excellent. And there were thousands there, and a great atmosphere too. The event was rounded off by some truly spectacular fireworks. Loved the symbolism of it too. The year turning and a burning s...